


It's always better when we're together

by BarricadeKitten (Dominatrix)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Astraphobia, First Meetings, Fluff, It's so happy and fluffy and angst-free I'm so proud of myself, M/M, What else is new, combeferre is an angel, seriously this is pure fluff, toothrotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/BarricadeKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire surely didn't expect the night to go like this. He's definitely not complaining, though.</p><p>Or: Enjolras is afraid of thunderstorms and Grantaire's ceiling is pretty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's always better when we're together

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short.  
> This started as a "Oh yea that would be cute" thought while I rinsed my plate after dinner.  
> I didn't sign up for this.  
> I regret nothing.
> 
> Prompts, questions about life, fate and kittens as well as general inquiries about the ridiculous person behind the ridiculous fanfics go here: shut-up-marius.tumblr.com
> 
> Love, Liz x
> 
> PS: Title from Jack Johnson's "Better when we're together". Because it's cute and it came up during a playlist I listened to while writing this.

Grantaire was blissfully alone tonight, which he was thankful for. Not that he didn't love his roommate to pieces, because he did, having clicked with him the moment they met.

(He was no Bossuet, probably not even close, but their uni sorted their dorms by faculty. And so Boss stayed with the law people, and R with the soon-to-be bus drivers, cashiers and hookers aka the people from the philosophic faculty.)

But Courfeyrac was the sort of person to hang in front of the window when a thunderstorm of epicness such as tonight happened, commenting every flash of lightning with „Whoa, did you see that? That was _brilliant_!“ or something similar. So with the world apparently ending with a bang outside, R was left in the half-lit room, lying on his bed, sketchpad in his lap and a cigarette between his thin lips.

(Courf never said anything about the dorm room reeking of smoke. Grantaire didn't lose a word when Courf's tie-dye experiments somehow ended up staining the walls with obnoxiously bright colours. It was a perfect symbiosis.)

R stretched his arms over his head, cigarette dangling dangerously in the corner of his mouth. He heard each crack of his spine with a mixture of contentment and worry. But he was barely twenty-two, so obviously the contentment had the much bigger part.

He had just turned his head to the bed on the other side of the room to ask Courf if he'd heard it, and hadn't that been amazing, when he remembered that his bubbly roommate was out to see a movie with his boyfriend tonight. Or rather sitting in the back row making out with his boyfriend and being disgustingly happy. Not that R wasn't glad for Courf and that other dude, but sometimes the level of heart-eyes got a bit too cringe-worthy.

He had barely let his eyes roam over the constellation-adorned ceiling again when there was a knock on the wall. Right next to him. Well, that was weird. Not that R wasn't used to seeing and hearing all kings of shit when he was dead-ass drunk, but tonight he was sober, stone cold, dry to the bone.

He didn't quite fancy drinking alone on weeknights, those occasions were saved for when his father called.

There was that knocking again, and Grantaire felt like an absolute tool when he sat up, took the cigarette out of his mouth and called out: „Hello?“

His voice was nearly deafened by a massive growl of thunder, so he tried again. „You there?“

„Yes, hi. Hi.“ The voice on the other side of the wall sounded tense, but lovely nonetheless. R couldn't quite place it, but it seemed to him that he'd heard it shout before sometime. But maybe he was just tired.

„Hi“ he replied, brows knit together.

„Hi“ the voice on the other side said.

Grantaire chuckled. „You already said that.“

There was a soft noise, like a thunk but lighter. R smiled and moved closer to the wall.

„Did you just facepalm?“

„You were able to hear that?“ The voice was half terror, half amazement.

„These walls are like paper. I can't believe you've never noticed. I'm under the assumption that my roomie and his boyfriend have ridiculously loud sex whenever I'm gone.“

The other voice chuckled. „Yes, I can relate. I'm suspicious my roommate does the same.“

R grinned and leaned his head against the wall, taking a long drag of his cigarette and carefully ashing into an empty glass. „Well so far he's been blissfully quiet. It's the bed that makes the most noise.“

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before the voice spoke up again. „I'm terribly sorry about that. Should I talk to him about that?“

„No, no. Let them have their fun“ R answered, amusement clear in his tone.

Silence fell. And was not broken until R had finished his cigarette and contemplated another one. In the end, though, the voice spoke again after a particular blinding flash of lightning, followed by thunder's rumble.

„Tell me something.“

R furrowed his brow again and stared at his bitten nails for some time before he answered. „Um...I'm not sure I'm good at telling stories.“

„No. Please. Just. Talk.“ There was something in the voice, something like panic, and it was so intense that Grantaire nearly stumbled over his next words because he wanted to get them out as fast as he could.

„Okay, what do you wanna know?“

R imagined that he heard a relieved sigh, but maybe his ears were shit. „Anything. I don't care.“

„This might be easier if we could see each other, like, in person“ he said carefully, totally aware that this was probably not standard procedure. But it also wasn't standard procedure to knock on walls and talk to strangers, so screw it.

„Are you proposing I come over to you?“ The voice was hesitant, and R could just imagine that their face was showing confusion.

„Oh hell no! I mean, you could be a dangerous axe murderer.“

He smiled widely when he heard a chuckle from the other side. „What if I swear I'm not?“

This time, he laughed out loud. „That sounds suspiciously like something a dangerous axe murderer might say.“

„Quite right“ the voice admitted.

„Seriously though, I don't even know your name.“

„Oh. Sorry. Yea. It's Enjolras.“

R moved his lips silently around the letters. _Enjolras._ „Pretty. I'm R. Nice to meet you. Or something like that.“

„Yea. Or something like that.“ There was only silence from the voice's – Enjolras' – side again, so R was the one to pick up speaking.

„So...You coming over?“ It was a risk, sure, and he wasn't sure if Courf would approve of him inviting some strange dude from next door over. Then he though again and laughed. Courf would do – and had done – much worse than that.

„...Sure. Let me just change and...“

„No need for that. Seriously. I'm wearing Batman pyjama bottoms. There's no way you look worse. Except if you're naked. Then please, put something on. Public decency and the like.“

There was this chuckle again. R started to like it. „Okay. Then...see you soon?“

„Yea. Yea, okay.“

 

When there was a knock on the door about half a minute later, R scrambled off the bed to open as fast as he could.

R stared.

„Hi“ Enjolras said with a smile.

R stared some more.

„You alright?“

R shook himself a bit to focus his mind back on the world and on basic social interactions. Instead of the fucking heavenly angel right in front of him.

„Yea sure. Come in, sit your ass down wherever.“

He let Enjolras pass before closing the door again, and grimaced with his face to the door. _Sit your ass down wherever? Goddamnit R. Nobody talks like that._

When he turned around, Enjolras was standing in front of his bed awkwardly. „Um, I...“

R just gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. „It's fine. I don't mind if you don't mind.“ Enjolras climbed on the bed carefully, and R totally didn't check out the way his red track bottoms clung to his backside. (It was a fabulous backside, though. 10/10 would recommend.)

Once settled, Enjolras looked around with a mixture of awkwardness and curiosity until his eyes fixated on the empty glass/ashtray and he wrinkled his nose. „I wondered why it smelled like a pub in here.“ R chuckled and sat down next to Enjolras, one knee drawn up to his chest, the other leg dangling off the bed. „Yea, well, there's no place like home.“

Enjolras huffed. „I don't think this is...“ He didn't get to finish that thought, a crack of thunder cut him short, making all the blood drain out of his face. R frowned.

„Enjolras...Are you afraid of thunderstorms?“

„Don't be ridiculous, I'm a grown man, I can handle...“ Again the thunder, harsh enough to make Enjolras jump and fist his hands in the lumpy comforter until he was white-knuckled. (The comforter was the ugliest thing R had ever seen, with clashing patterns and a colour scheme that made his artist heart weep in agony, but Jehan had given it to him when he had learned to knit. Well, learned is a flexible term. He tried.)

„Hey“ R said lowly, stretching out a hand but unsure if it'd be appropriate to touch Enjolras. He settled for the hopefully comforting pressure of his leg against one of Enjolras' knees, subtle enough not to mention it but grounding enough to soothe at least a bit.

„Just. Can we talk?“ Enjolras asked quietly.

„Sure. How about I tell you something about my dumbass fellow students and about the time I upended a bowl full of pink glitter paint over my head because I lost a bet and weeks later I'd still sparkle in the sunlight like a fairy?“

R saw that Enjolras' mouth twitched into a smile as he nodded. „That sounds good.“

„Ace. Say, what do you study anyway?“

„Political science. Thought about law though.“

R whistled through the gap between his front teeth. „Wow, ambitious are we? Might I see you on the telly in like ten years and go _Hey that's that dude who sat in my dorm room one night_?“

Enjolras chuckled and let his head thunk against the wall, looking up. „That might...Wow. What's that?“

R looked up at the ceiling as well and licked his lips. „That. Well. Um. Let's jut say that you don't get to see that many stars here because of light pollution and all that big city crap, so I thought...Why not get the stars here anyway?“

He watched Enjolras trace the constellations painted on the ceiling with his eyes, only slightly feeling like a creep as he admired the blonde man. (Seriously though, that jawline was sharp. R might have just developed a thing for sharp jawlines.)

„They're beautiful, R.“

R ducked his head, picking on his cuticles and keeping his eyes on his hands as he spoke. „They're alright, I guess.“

„No, they're really beautiful, I'm serious. How long have you been an artist?“

R snorted a humourless laugh. „I study art. Hardly makes me an artist. Though hell knows that some of the other students would disagree vehemently.“

He could almost heard Enjolras' frown. „Studying art might not make you an artist. But this does.“

R shrugged, and only looked up when Enjolras nudged him with his elbow. He could easily drown in those giant blue eyes, he thought. He really could. He kind of wanted to.

„It's pretty, R. Take the compliment.“

R smiled bashfully. „Okay fine. God you're stubborn. You'd make a good lawyer.“

Enjolras' face lit up when he laughed, and all R could think about was that he'd love to do that again. „I hope that's not an insult?“  
„From me?“ Grantaire mock-gasped, raising a hand to his chest and clutching his heart. „Never!“ (If his hand shortly brushed Enjolras' on the comforter on the way down...Well. Pure coincidence. Which made his heart race.)

 

They ended up talking for quite a while, storm still growling outside, but Enjolras didn't seem to notice anymore. A ridiculously proud and warm feeling settled in R's stomach at that. At some point during the night, they were dangerously close to fighting when Enjolras brought up local politics, and then again later when R talked about Hobbes.

They quickly agreed that those were topics for another time (and R didn't feel his blood rush faster when Enjolras proposed a philosophical discussion over coffee or tea. He didn't. Well, maybe a tiny bit.) and went on talking about everything and nothing.

„Hey, Enjolras?“ R asked, trying to hide a yawn, nearly dislocating his jaw in the process. He didn't want Enjolras to know that he was dead-tired. He didn't want him to leave.

„Hm?“ The artist could have sworn that Enjolras had had his eyes closed only a second before, because now he was blinking and looking slightly disoriented..

„Where's your roommate anyway?“ He couldn't believed that he hadn't asked this, like, hours ago. The thunderstorm had passed, and now the nightly silence outside was only disturbed by the unsteady patter of rain against the window, changing in intensity every once in a while but apart from that completely filling the stereotype of _It's always raining in England._

„Oh, he's gone to see a film with his boyfriend. Well, I say see a film. I'd rather call it making out with his boyfriend and being disgustingly happy. But that's just me, I guess.“ R tried not to gape at Enjolras when he said that, he really did, but he failed spectacularly.

„What?“ Enjolras said with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

„Nothing. Just...nothing. My roommate's on date night as well. Doing couple stuff.“

Enjolras laughed, a full-body laugh which made their knees brush and R's chest feel a little tighter. „You should have seen your face when you said couple stuff.“

R couldn't help that a smile tugged at his lips. „Don't get me wrong, I'm all for love and stuff, but it gets depressing when you're perpetually single.“

„Oh...you are?“ Enjolras asked. R could have sworn he saw him smile for a bit before he was aware of being watched.

„Yup“ he replied, letting the 'p' pop at the end, an obnoxious habit he had picked up from Courf.

Enjolras chuckled „Ferre's boyfriend does this like all the time.“

R whipped his head to look at Enjolras so fast his neck cracked. „Wait. Did you just say Ferre?“

„Um...yea?“ Enjolras looked adorably confused, and R just laughed.

„Wanna share with the class?“ the blonde asked, voice dry but still amused. R nodded, still wheezing. „Your roommate is my roommate's boyfriend.“

The look on Enjolras' face was worthy of a painting. „No. Way. You're rooming with Courfeyrac?“

„The one and only“ R confirmed.

„Oh my god!“ Enjolras exclaimed after a short thinking period. „You're the hot cynical asshole artist friend who's supposed to help Feuilly with the posters!“

„And you're the leader of that student...Wait. Hot?“

The blush on Enjolras' face crept down his neck and over his collarbones, disappearing from view under the grey t-shirt he wore. R had never cursed a piece of clothing more.

„That's what Courf said.“

„Yea, sure he did“ R replied with a devilish grin on his face.

„No he really...I mean, not that you're not...Well, um...“ It was hilarious to watch Enjolras struggle, but R also feared that his pretty head might burst. He nudged Enjolras with his knee and winked at him. „Don't beat yourself up about it. Tell me something instead.“

Enjolras smiled widely, leaned his head back against the wall, and started to talk.

 

 

Courfeyrac shushed his boyfriend when they went into the room he shared with R the next morning. They'd been caught right in the middle of the thunderstorm when the movie had ended, and because they'd been on the other side of town for that old-school black and white movie theatre that only showed 50s movies, it had been a quick decision to just get a cheap and relatively clean room. (Also motel sex. No further explanation needed.)

„Okay, just be quiet, R might be asleep.“

„Courf, it's nine thirty. Shouldn't he be in class?“  
„Probably, but he's a lazy...Oh.“

Combeferre peeked over his boyfriend' shoulder to see why Courf had stopped dead on his tracks.

R was indeed still asleep, leaning with his back against the wall, head bowed slightly. The odd thing was that there was Enjolras beside him, fast asleep as well, with his head nuzzled against R's neck.

„Oh. My. _God“_ Courf stage-whispered with a look of puzzlement, glee and awe on his face. „This is the most adorable thing ever. Wow. Wait, are they holding hands??“

Combeferre put his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders and kept him from storming into the room and disturbing the peace. „Told you that they'd find their way. Without meddling. I believe you owe me a blow job.“

Courfeyrac snickered. „That I do indeed. Let me just...“

„Courf, what are you...Fine. One picture. One. And then we're leaving. Don't give me those puppy eyes, they don't work“ Combeferre said with a fond roll of his eyes. He took great care of shepherding his boyfriend back out of the room with the promise of treating him for a late breakfast. Before he closed the door behind him though, he smiled at the two men resting against each other on the bed.

„Well done, you. Don't mess this up.“


End file.
